


Choose Your Adventure (Holiday Edition)

by popatochisp



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Swapfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Choose Your Own Adventure, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Holidays, Horrortale Papyrus (Undertale), Horrortale Sans (Undertale), M/M, Other, Slice of Life, Swapfell Papyrus (Undertale), Swapfell Sans (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:06:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 12,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popatochisp/pseuds/popatochisp
Summary: Navigate through a series of choices in this winter holiday themed Choose Your Adventure story to spend an evening with your skeleton datemate!
Relationships: Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 62
Kudos: 324
Collections: Interactive Fiction/Actual ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’





	1. HAPPY HOLIDAYS

It’s winter!

There’s snow on the ground, magic in the air, and the holidays are in full swing—and all you can think of now is your favorite bonefriend.

You think you’ll…

[TEXT HIM](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628557)

[GIVE HIM A CALL](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629994)


	2. Text Him

You think you’ll text him!

He’s not really a ‘phone call’ type of guy anyway, and texting guarantees you a quicker response.

You type out you message to him, carefully so autocorrect doesn’t screw up his name again. It’s not like you’re trying to send a text to…

[SAND](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628629)

[PAPAYAS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629340)


	3. Text Sans

‘Hey Sans!’ you methodically peck out, not wanting a repeat of the beach-pun barrage you’d gotten the last time autocorrect had ducking screwed you.

Sure enough, it doesn’t take long for your phone to buzz, his response popping up on your screen.

You look at…

[THE GIF](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628689)

[THE EMOJI](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628899)

[THE MESSAGE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629154)


	4. UT!Sans

You snort out loud at the animated gif Sans sent you, an out of context meme that makes absolutely _no_ sense whatsoever.

 **You:** Did you just send me the first trending gif that came up on your phone???

 **sans:** what, that’s ridiculous, i love you, course i put in more effort than that

 **sans:** i scrolled through at least, like, ten of em

 **sans:** that’s love, babe

Knowing the skeleton this is coming from…

Yeah, it is.

 **You:** I love you, too! I want to see you, we should go out!

 **sans:** nah

You frown.

 **You:** What do you mean, ‘nah’?

 **sans:** come over and find out

 **sans:** ;)

You stare at the winky face, considering your options…

[AGREE TO GO OVER](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628713)

[TELL HIM TO COME TO YOU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628749)


	5. UT!Sans

**You:** Alright, fine, but you better be wearing pants this time!

 **sans:** no promises

You resist the urge to sigh, even as you quirk a grin.

_This damn skeleton…_

[YOU GO OVER TO HIS HOUSE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628803)


	6. UT!Sans

No way, you can’t do that—if you leave it up to _Sans_ , you won’t see his lazy butt for a week!

[YOU'D BETTER GO TO HIM](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628713)


	7. UT!Sans

You suppose you really have no choice if you ever want to see him—it’s off to Sans’ house you go!

You arrive and let yourself in, shucking off your cold weather clothes and looking around.

It’s dead silent, which is…not encouraging.

“Sans?” you call into the house, curiously.

In the distance, you hear…something, too far away to be entirely sure _what_ was said, but definitely Sans.

You follow it upstairs, to your bonefriend’s room.

“Sans?” you try again, and this time, from behind the door, you hear a muffled, “yep.”

So you suppose you’re in the right place.

In you go…and you _immediately_ start to laugh.

Sans is there, alright, lying on his mattress—except so tangled up in sheets and blankets that literally all you can see of him is about a quarter of his skull.

“Wh…what,” you manage to chuckle out.

Sans smiles at you…you think.

“whaddaya mean, ‘what,’” he says. “it’s blanket-nest season.”

“Pfft…are…are you _stuck_? Is _that_ why you wouldn’t come see me?”

“hey. look at me. do you have any idea how warm i am right now? this is _prime_ cozy real estate. why would i go _outside_ when i’m as comfy as monsterly possible?”

“………”

“…yeah, m’a little stuck. tried to achieve maximum burrito an’ just flew too close to the sun. my hubris was my undoing…so i figured i’d just chill here for the rest of my natural life, y’know how it is.”

You laugh.

You laugh so hard you almost _wheeze_ , even as you step forward and start to tug at all the covers on and around Sans, trying to free him.

To his credit, he’s _really_ managed to tangle himself up good, taking you at least a minute or two to even start _loosening_ the wrappings of this bony burrito.

Eventually, though, you manage it, successfully freeing an arm.

“Aha! There we g—ack!”

Sans surprises you sometimes, with how fast he can be when he’s _not_ moving at a snail’s pace.

Quicker than your eyes can follow, his newly freed arm lashes out, hooks around you, and pulls you right up onto the mattress with him, into the mass of covers.

“shhh,” he says, trying to drag you into a spooning position. “accept your fate, become one with the nest. c’mon, you’re lettin’ the warm out.”

Automatically, you reach for the covers, pulling them around yourself to reseal the burrito before you even realize what you’re doing.

“Hey, wait a minute! Why am I listening to _you?_ You got yourself _stuck_ in a bunch of blankets!”

Sans hums, thinking it over.

“‘cause…it’s cold out there and warm in here?”

………

Well.

Hard to deny _that_ logic.

You…suppose there’s no harm in a bit of cuddling with the very skeleton you’d come _all_ the way over here to spend time with.

You settle down, getting comfortable in the little nest of blankets and bones.

Sans leans over, pressing his teeth to the shell of your ear.

“good choice,” he says, and as the cuddly, cozy warmth starts sinking into you in earnest…

You can’t help but agree.

[HAPPY HOLIDAYS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628539)


	8. UF!Sans

You get three texts back in quick succession that make your face heat up, if only because of how _perfectly_ you can imagine what it’d be like to get them from the man himself in person.

 **sans:** 😘

 **sans:** heya sweetheart

 **sans:** ya miss me? ;)

 **You** : I always do!

There!

That little bit of genuine sincerity oughta buy you a few seconds to unfluster yourself while Sans is forced to do the same.

Your cheeks have cooled down by the time you get another text.

 **sans:** you’re too cute

 **sans:** what’s up?

 **You:** Just what you said, I miss you!

 **You:** I thought maybe we could go out, have a date or something?

 **sans:** right now? ‘cause i’m workin, unless you want me to play hooky

You think about it…

[YES, HE SHOULD DITCH WORK](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629007)

[NO, YOU CAN WAIT](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629046)


	9. UF!Sans

**You:** Yeah, play hooky!

To your disappointment, Sans’ answer to your attempt at enabling is actually _responsible_.

 **sans:** heheheh, love the gusto, but i dunno if i can get away with walkin out just yet

 **sans:** an ya ain’t gonna get much romance outta me with no notice, pretty much only one kinda ‘good time’ i can show ya on the fly

 **sans:** ;p

 **sans:** i’ll come get ya after my shift, should be able to rustle up some plans for ya by then

Ah, damn…you guess that’s fair.

 **You:** Okay, I can live with that. I’ll see you later then!

[YOU WAIT](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629070)


	10. UF!Sans

**You:** You don’t have to play hooky, I just wanted to see you today if you had time!

 **sans:** ah, i always got time for you, baby

 **sans:** tell ya what, i’ll come get ya after my shift, should be able to rustle up some plans for ya by then

 **sans:** it’ll be real romantic, promise

 **You:** Sounds great! I’ll see you later! ❤️

[YOU WAIT](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629070)


	11. UF!Sans

You find _some_ way to kill time and when the clock shows that Sans will be wrapping up his shift soon, you start to get yourself ready.

Primped and preened and dressed in a _killer_ date-night outfit, you take a seat to wait to hear from your skeleton beau.

You wait…and wait…and wait a little more…

And just as you start to cross the threshold from impatient to annoyed, a pair of hands covers your eyes.

“guess who?” a husky voice asks at your ear.

You have _no_ idea, truly.

But the hands ‘covering’ your face are just metacarpals and phalanges, so you _think_ you can make a pretty good guess.

“Mmm…Papyrus?”

Sans snorts loudly, whirling you around.

“that ain’t fuckin’ funny,” he says, but considering he says it with a big grin and the amused shaking of his shoulders, you think you’re alright.

“Oh! Sans!” you exclaim, like you’re surprised. “I’m glad it’s you!”

“oh yeah?”

“Yeah! ‘cause now I can do _this_ …”

You lean in and Sans happily meets you halfway, your lips pressing against his teeth.

Kissing’s always a little tricky with only one set of lips in the equation, but if there’s anything Sans _isn’t_ a slouch at, it’s this—he angles his skull for you, carefully brushing his sharp teeth against your mouth, reaching up to cradle your face and stroke your cheek with one clawed thumb…

It’s nice.

And when you open your eyes again, everything around you is dark.

“Wh—”

“heheh, don’ worry, doll, don’ worry,” Sans hastens to assure you. “just a lil shortcut, s’all…”

“To where?” you wonder, because the room you seem to be standing in is utterly bare and unfamiliar.

Well…

Maybe not _bare_ …but you’re not sure a single busted treadmill counts as _furniture_.

“it’s my room,” Sans says, leading you to sit on the machine. “er…it used ta’ be, anyhow…y’know, before the move.”

You look out the window, at the faint and noticeably artificial light.

“Are we…”

“underground? in snowdin? ridiculously attractive?” Sans shoots you a wink. “right on all counts, baby.”

You snicker, just a bit.

“Okay. So…why?”

That’s _your_ most pressing question, anyway—especially when Sans starts taking off your shoes.

“fer this,” he simply retorts, brandishing a pair of ice skates, just your size.

“Skating? We’re going skating?” You laugh a little, even as Sans starts to lace you up, a true gentleman. “Sans, we could’ve done that _above_ ground, you didn’t have to bring me down here.”

Sans shrugs.

“ehh, maybe, maybe not… guess you’ll just hafta wait an’ see, huh?”

“Wait and see _what?_ ”

For a guy without lips, Sans sure can seal them pretty well: he stays completely and totally mum about what you’re supposed to ‘see,’ even as you try to get it out of him with pleas and demands and questions galore.

He just ties on his own skates, scoops you up, and ‘shortcuts’ the both of you right to your destination.

The big patch of ice Sans sets you down on is shiny and gorgeous, almost as reflective as a mirror. All around it, a ring of glowing crystals are wedged into the snow, pulsing in quiet hums and bathing the ice in a soft pink light.

And Sans joins you on the ice, his grin crooked and his eye-lights warm and hopeful.

“well?” he asks you. “how’d i do on the romance?”

A pretty, private rink for just the two of you to share, with literally magical mood-lighting placed by hand.

Sans did _perfect_.

When you haul him in for another kiss, you don’t even _think_ about his lack of lips—just how much you _adore_ this gruff and gritty _sap_ of a skeleton and how happy you are to have him with you.

[HAPPY HOLIDAYS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628539)


	12. HT!Sans

You read the message on your phone, your heart welling up with fondness for every successive word.

 **sans:** hey babe, how are you? i was just thinkin about you, nice timing, hope you’re doin good, love you

Stars above, your boyfriend is sweet.

He loves texting you, always says it’s the best way to he’s found to get his thoughts out succinctly, in a way that he can be _sure_ makes sense before sending it off to you.

…which often leads to some longer ones when he hasn’t _seen_ you in awhile, like now, but you’re _hardly_ about to complain.

 **You:** I’m good, I love you too! I miss you, I was hoping we could hang out today! :)

 **sans:** never say no to seeing you

 **sans:** had lunch yet?

[YES, YOU ALREADY ATE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629205)

[NO, NOT YET](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629259)


	13. HT!Sans

Knowing exactly why he worries, you’re quick to reassure him.

 **You:** Yeah, I had leftovers, no need to bring any snacks besides yourself. ;3

You hear Sans’ laugh at your terrible flirtation in person and turn to see him already standing there, right behind you.

He can’t really help but _loom_ a bit, as any giant skeleton monster would, but the crinkle of his sockets and the smile in his big, red eye-light softens it considerably.

“that’s too smooth,” he tells you. “beats the hell outta mine…”

“Aw, you had a pickup line ready, too? What was it?”

Sans grins sheepishly, passing over a cosmic brownie in sealed cellophane. “ehh, somethin’ somethin’ ‘out of this world,’ i didn’t get that far with it…”

Even so, “That would’ve been really _sweet_ of you to say. Thank you!”

You tuck the brownie away into your pocket, for later, and get right up on your tiptoes, trying to reach your bonefriend for a hug.

Sans is happy to bend down for you and squeezes you right back.

“so…” he says after a moment or two. “what d’you wanna do? m’all yours.”

Well…

[SAY THE FIRST THING YOU CAN THINK OF](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629283)


	14. HT!Sans

You haven’t gotten around to it yet, so that’s certainly an idea.

 **You:** No, not yet. Did you want to go get some?

“yep,” Sans says, abruptly behind you, and you spin around to face him.

He can’t really help but _loom_ a bit, as any giant skeleton monster would, but the crinkle of his sockets and the smile in his big, red eye-light as he looks down at you softens it considerably.

“Hey!” you say in greeting, smiling right back.

“hi. where d’you wanna go? i’ll buy.”

“Ooh, a _gentleman,_ ” you purr with exaggerated titillation.

(No need to turn things heavy by drawing attention to _why_ Sans might be so concerned if you were hungry or not, old worries, old scars…nothing to dwell on now.)

You pick a place and let Sans take you, and true to his word, he actually _pays_.

You share a nice lunch together and by the end of it, Sans seems to be satisfied; the set of his shoulders a little more relaxed.

“so…” he says, turning to you on the way out. “now what? m’all yours.”

You hadn’t really made plans, of course—not beyond this, anyway, so…

Well…

[SAY THE FIRST THING YOU CAN THINK OF](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629283)


	15. HT!Sans

“Uh…I dunno…”

You look around, perhaps hoping the scenery will give you some sort of inspiration.

There’s not much out here, pretty much just a flood of white as far as the eye could see. It had snowed recently, several inches, and there was plenty of the stuff piled up on the ground, still fluffy and clean and…

“Hey,” you say aloud, feeling like you might be onto something. “When’s the last time you made a snowman?”

Sans takes a second to process what you said, and then he chuckles, surprised.

“a _snowman_? ah jeez…years… _decades_ ,” he amends. “Pap’d probably say snowlumps don’t count, heheheh…”

It’s been a fair while for you, too, but now that you’re thinking about it…

“Let’s do it. Together!”

“really?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun!”

“heheheheh…” Sans scratches idly at the back of his neck. “i mean, if you wanna…sure, i guess? why not.”

A ringing endorsement if you ever heard one!

Sans brings you back to his place, to his front yard full of the white stuff, and you get right to work.

You have half a mind to be embarrassed by your childish suggestion, at first, but that fades away quickly as you start having fun with your creation—debating about size and roundness of segments, calculating positioning and evenness, laughing and lobbing formless snow at each other, just because.

Sans’ size is great for moving large amounts of snow at once, and his skill in stacking is unparalleled. Your (relatively) small hands are also crucial for adjusting your snowman’s stick-arms, and for setting the stones of his eyes and mouth with careful precision.

The finishing touches are your scarf and, in lieu of wasting a carrot, a slightly conical hunk of carnelian from Sans’ rock collection.

Just like that, your snowman is complete, and you stand back to admire it a little.

“We did good,” you conclude, looking at the large and sturdy snow fellow. “Don’t you think?”

“…yeah.”

You turn at the soft quality you hear in Sans’ voice.

Sure enough, he’s looking at you, expression warm.

“What?” you ask, because you hadn’t even _done_ anything to warrant such a lovestruck look.

“……nothin,’” Sans says at length, still smiling. “this was…nice. been…s’been a long time since i…did somethin’. just for fun. just ‘cause.”

Sans reaches out to you, big hands curling around your arms to hold you still so he could bend and touch his teeth to your forehead, a gentle little nuzzle.

“thanks. love you.”

………

Well then.

If Sans thought he could say something like _that_ and _not_ get himself kissed right back, he had another thing coming!

[HAPPY HOLIDAYS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628539)


	16. Text Papyrus

‘Hi Papyrus!’ you methodically peck out, not wanting autocorrect to ducking screw you again.

Text sent, you know you should get a response…

[ANY MINUTE NOW](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629379)

[IN AN HOUR OR TWO](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629754)


	17. US!Papyrus

Papyrus always has his phone on him and even when he has it muted, he manages to respond to anything you send him within five or ten minutes.

‘what if it’s important?’ he always said when you brought it up, and that he’d hate to not be there if you really needed him.

Yeah…Papyrus is _absolutely_ your steady, reliable rock!

You’re not surprised at all when he texts you back in under two minutes this time.

 **papyrus:** hey hon, how’s it going?

 **You:** Pretty good! Just miss you, wanted to say hi! :)

 **papyrus:** consider it said, i miss you, too.

 **papyrus:** have you thought any more about coming to that party with me, or are you not feeling it?

The party—according to your boyfriend, a very low-key holiday affair put on by some of his coworkers, nothing too fancy and not too many people, he’d promised.

At last check-in, you told him you’d think about it, but now, on the day of the event…you think you know your answer.

[YES, YOU’LL GO](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629418)

[NO, YOU’LL PASS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629442)


	18. US!Papyrus

**You:** Yeah, it sounds like fun, I’d love to be your plus-one!

 **papyrus:** cool, glad to have you aboard—i’ll finally be able to show everybody the cutie i’m always telling them about.

Your cheeks absolutely do _not_ heat as soon as you process the words.

They _don’t_.

 **You:** You’re just buttering me up so I don’t embarrass you in front of them, aren’t you?

 **papyrus:** that’s absurd, baby, i would never do that, i butter you up because you deserve it.

_Aww…_

**papyrus:** and also i forgot to clear my browser history once, so i think at least jarod in IT has seen it, there’s no coming back from that, my reputation is already mud with these people lol

… _Aw_.

Knowing even a _little_ of the kind of bizarre, out of context stuff a hobbyist author like Papyrus could end up googling, though, you know he’s…probably not wrong.

 **You:** Guess it’s up to me to make you look good then, huh? 😏

 **papyrus:** that should be easy, just be you and everyone will be jealous of me in ten minutes, max.

Aaaaand, you’re right back to _awwwwww…!_

 **You:** Quit being smooth and remind me when the thing is!

[YOU'RE GOING TO THE PARTY!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629493)


	19. US!Papyrus

**You:** Yeah, I just don’t think I’m up for it… Sorry!

**papyrus:** don’t worry about it, hon, that’s cool.

**You:** Are you sure?

**papyrus:** yeah, it’s not a big deal, if you’re not feeling it, you’re not feeling it.

You’re…a little disappointed, honestly—you’d wanted to see him today, but since he had plans, and since you’d turned them down, you probably wouldn’t get to…

In that uncanny, mind-reading way Papyrus has always seemed to have, though, he sends you another text.

**papyrus:** i could swing by your place after, if you wanted to hang out tonight still?

You smile.

**You:** I’d love that! Let me know when you’re coming by, and have fun at your party!

**papyrus:** will do, see you later. 💙

The day passes. Evening rolls around, and eventually Papyrus keeps true to his promise and shows up at your place—a little tired, noticeably drained from the socializing, but obviously happy to see you.

You end up cuddling the night away half-watching some movie on TV, and it’s pleasant but otherwise totally unremarkable.

You wonder what would’ve happened if you’d gone with him to the party instead…


	20. US!Papyrus

You take your time getting ready, picking out a nice outfit (but not _too_ nice) and looking yourself over in the mirror until you’re satisfied that you look presentable.

Eventually, Papyrus arrives, smiling at you warmly and ushering you quickly into his properly heated car before the weather can chill you too deeply.

The drive to the venue is pretty uneventful—mostly just him briefing you on coworkers and whatever little tidbits about them could be relevant—and before you know it, you’re there.

You brace yourself at the door, half-expecting…

You’re not sure.

A club scene? A dark room, mostly dance floor, with a bar and a DJ and nicely dressed people milling about, cocktails in hand?

The brightly lit, rented event room and the little boombox in the corner playing holiday music takes you a little by surprise. There’s still a few cocktails in hands, but the people attached haven’t gone overboard with their dresses and dress shirts and it…

It actually _is_ just as low-key and casual as Papyrus had promised.

The skeleton himself is smirking a little when you glance over at him.

“told you, didn’t i?” he murmurs to you. “you don’t think _i’d_ go to a crazy party, do you?”

You…don’t suppose he would, in retrospect—you can’t even really _picture_ your ~~weirdo~~ old soul introvert of a bonefriend at anything hardcore.

You just make a noncommittal noise at him for now, not wanting to admit to anything.

When you see someone across the room spot the new arrivals (you!) and start walking over, you take a quick breath to steel yourself.

You can handle this!

Papyrus does a round of the place with you, greeting all his coworkers and introducing you, “oh hey, this is my partner…”

You shake a lot of hands and hear a lot of, “Nice to meet you!”s, plenty of mundane small-talk to be had but also a few interesting conversations in the bunch.

You find out from a lady named Rhonda that Papyrus keeps a picture of you stuck onto the backside of his work lanyard, someone you _think_ is called Donovan has invited you to join their DnD night, and that Jen is dating Graham _again_ , after that whole thing _last_ year…

Not that you know what _happened_ last year, or who Jen or Graham even _are_ , but tea is tea and the drama certainly is intriguing.

There’s a decent dinner and a quick raffle (in which neither you nor Papyrus win anything), and all in all it’s a pretty nice evening.

You’re gathering your jackets from the coat-check, in no particular hurry on your way out, when you’re stopped.

“You can’t go,” the woman you think _might_ be Jen tells you, a grin on her face. “It’s tradition, you can’t go until you do it!”

She _may_ have had one drink too many, is your first thought, and you’re not really sure what she’s talking about.

Papyrus figures it out first.

“…oh,” you hear him say, glancing over to see a cerulean hue coloring his cheekbones. “didn’t…i, uh…i didn’t even…notice that…”

“Notice what?” you ask.

But you find the answer by chance…when you look up.

There, hung in the door-frame of the coat-check, where you and Papyrus are standing…

Mistletoe.

“Oh!”

Well, no wonder Papyrus is blushing—partner or not, he’s _far_ too shy to just…plant one on you in front of all these people, while everybody’s _looking_ , eyes drawn by Jen’s loud exclamation.

There’s no way he’ll do it, you’re sure of that much.

“C’mon,” you say, laughing and waving your hand, “that’s silly, nobody really…I mean, that’s not a thing anybody even—”

You cut yourself short as phalanges suddenly alight on your chin.

Before you’re even entirely aware what’s happening, Papyrus bends, leaning in and carefully, tenderly brushing his teeth against your cheek.

It’s chaste.

It’s short, barely longer than a peck.

But Papyrus just did it in front of _everyone_ he works with, hardly even hesitating, and you…

Oh stars, you feel _very_ special.

A few people cheer and Jen (???) even hoots a little obnoxiously, and your face starts to feel as flushed as Papyrus’ skull _looks_ , but most people just go back to the party like normal, allowing you and your boyfriend to finally slip out for the evening.

A few blocks away, you say, “You didn’t…have to do that.”

“i like kissing you.”

That, you know.

“With…with everybody _watching_ , I mean,” you clarify. “I know you’re…you get a little… You didn’t have to _prove_ anything to me, or—”

“i know,” says Papyrus.

And then, he reaches a hand over to you, settling it gently on your leg.

“that’s _why_ i wanted to do it.”

…Oh.

“I love you,” you say after a moment.

“i love you, too,” Papyrus replies, without hesitation.

The rest of the drive home is peaceful and quiet.

And you feel warm.

[HAPPY HOLIDAYS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628539)


	21. SF!Papyrus

Papyrus is… a little erratic, or at the very least his sleeping schedule is!

You’ve probably got a fifty-fifty shot of catching him awake at this time of day, and that’s assuming he has his phone _on_ him, not muted _and_ fully charged.

Your boy is just a bit of a mess, but hey—he’s _your_ mess!

Since you don’t get an immediate text back, you can safely assume he’s _some_ form of indisposed and just go about your business for awhile, knowing he’ll message you back eventually.

When your phone _does_ get around to buzzing, though, you’re…

You’re not quite sure what you’re looking at.

 **papyrus:** disaster

 **papyrus:** mistakes were made

 **papyrus:** please send help i love you

You attempt to investigate.

 **You:** Rus, baby, literally WHAT.

 **papyrus:** it’s everywhere

 **papyrus:** no paper towels

Okay, you’re kinda scared now.

 **You:** Are you okay? Do I need to call Sans or something?

 **papyrus:** no please just help

 **You:** What do you need?

 **papyrus:** hepl

 **papyrus:** battery low, soon pls

You keep texting for a little while, but…there’s no response.

Papyrus’ phone must have died in the midst of…whatever the _hell_ is going on over there.

You guess you’re going to have to…

[GO HELP](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629811)

[STAY HOME](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629835)


	22. SF!Papyrus

Even with no idea what the problem is, Papyrus has asked you for help and as his datemate, you are duty-bound to make an attempt!

You don’t know what he needs besides paper towels, though, so you grab a roll, hope it’s enough, and head out the door.

[YOU'RE GOING OVER](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629877)


	23. SF!Papyrus

You’re not curious about those texts _at all?_

Yes, you are, don’t lie.

You grab a roll of paper towels and head out the door.

[YOU'RE GOING OVER](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52629877)


	24. SF!Papyrus

Nothing can prepare you for the sight that greets you when you arrive at Papyrus’ place.

You find him in the kitchen, on the floor in a semi-fetal position of regret and despair.

For what, you don’t have to wonder—with seemingly _every_ surface around him splattered and flecked with dripping batter, baking supplies left to sit where they fell.

“What the fuck,” you blurt out.

“i dunno what happened,” Papyrus says, pitifully. “please don’t ask…”

“I…kinda have to?”

Thank the _stars_ you actually brought paper towels…

You unspool probably half the roll and give it to him, coaxing him up onto his feet.

“I just…wow, what were you even trying to _do_ here? What kinda cake was so important—”

“it was supposed to be _cookies_ ,” Papyrus laments.

You pause.

“…This is _way_ too runny for dough. What did you—”

“i don’t _know_ , it just… _happened_ like this…a-and when i tried to mix it, it just……”

Well, you can _see_ that.

You suppose there’s nothing for it but to help the poor skeleton clean all this up.

It’s surprisingly quick work with two, even _if_ one of them is embarrassed and sullen, and soon the cabinets and counters are clean again save for supplies and ingredients.

You move everything about, cleaning under and around it—sugar, butter, salt, vanilla, baking powder, the works…

Except…

“‘Rus,” you say, realization dawning. “Did you have _any_ flour?”

“………oh.”

“Pfft…!”

You feel bad for laughing, you really do, so when an adorable dusting of violet creeps across Papyrus’ face, you go right over to give him a reassuring little hug.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry about it, it’s…y’know what, we’ll start over!”

“we?”

“Yeah! I’m already here,” you point out, “might as well help you out, right? Holiday cookies sound fun.”

Papyrus smiles, just a little sheepish.

“nyeheheh…yeah…yeah, s’probably…better with somebody who knows what they’re doin’, huh?”

“Less _messy_ , at least.”

Papyrus chuckles and you go digging up the recipe he’d meant to use, eager to get started on a little holiday baking.

Just like the cleaning, mixing ingredients and rolling out dough goes _much_ faster with two, even with the occasional…distraction.

(Puffs of flour dabbed on your nose, sticky eggshell bits wiped off your fingers onto his shirt, fending off claws in the dough ‘just for a quick taste’…)

Papyrus managed to find some supremely adorable cookie cutters, and you’re poring over your choices—pine trees, snowmen, mittens, and more—when you feel him come up behind you.

His hands settle on your hips and his skull dips down, teeth gently pressing against your shoulder in a skeleton kiss.

“What?” you laugh, leaning back into his touch. “What’s that for?”

“mmm…savin’ the day?” he guesses. “bein’ you? both? i dunno…just love ya’, i guess…”

“Aww… These cookies better not be as sweet as you, or we’re _all_ gonna need gold teeth.”

“pfft, nyeheheheh…”

You grab a snowflake shape and shove it at Papyrus.

“C’mon,” you tell him, “we gotta get these in the oven, or we’re never gonna find out if you can decorate any better than you mix and measure!”

“preeeetty sure that, i can do.”

You smirk.

“Yeah? You’ll have to prove it.”

Papyrus just beams.

“anything for you, angel.”

[HAPPY HOLIDAYS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628539)


	25. Call Him

You think you’ll give him a call!

He’s always been the type of guy who appreciated calls over texts unless absolutely necessary, so you figure you’ll show him you’ve been paying enough attention to know that by now.

You scroll down through your contacts, looking for his name…

[P, Q, R…](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630012)

[M, N, O…](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630273)


	26. Call Sans

Aha, S for Sans, right where it should be!

You enjoy a private little smile at the heart emoji you’ve put beside his name, finger hovering over the contact.

It’s a small thing, but it still makes you happy whenever you see it there in your phone…

[ **SANS 💙** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630075)

[ **SANS 💜** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52631047)


	27. US!Sans

You bring the phone up to your ear, waiting to hear your boyfriend’s deep, warm voice spilling across the line and greeting you with the usual enthusiasm.

You listen to the phone ring…and ring…and ring…

It…goes to voicemail.

You don’t think you’ve _ever_ called Sans and had it go to voicemail before.

Confused, you try again, only to get the same result, and…

Now that you think of it, it’s been a hot minute since you’ve actually _seen_ Sans.

You’ve been in contact with him…you think…but mostly through text messages, warnings that he couldn’t come see you, something had come up, or he was going to be working.

Was…

Could something be…wrong?

You stare at your phone, frowning hard as thoughts begin to race through your head, doubts and questions.

Was Sans mad at you? Had you _done_ something? Did he…want space, or…?

…No.

No, Sans wouldn’t have just _decided_ that without telling you—your starry-eyed sweetheart was so all _about_ talking things out, he wasn’t the ghosting type!

But of course, even ruling that out…didn’t really leave many _good_ options.

You switch to your texts and type out a message.

 **You:** Sans, I’m starting to get worried, please call me soon? I just want to know if you’re okay.

There.

Straightforward and honest, just like Sans liked.

You stare at your own message for a moment, uncertainty making you linger…

And good thing you did, or else you wouldn’t have seen the typing bubble appear just beneath your words.

 **SANS** **💙:** PLEASE DON’T BE WORRIED, DARLING, I’M ALRIGHT! I WILL CALL YOU SOON. I LOVE YOU!

For a moment, you’re tempted to just buy it.

But…for Sans to have responded to you so fast, he must’ve already _had_ his phone in hand—so why wouldn’t he… _couldn’t_ he…just call you back?

No…you _don’t_ think you buy it.

[CALL HIM OUT](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630111)

[GET A SECOND OPINION](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630159)


	28. US!Sans

You type out another text.

 **You:** If you’re alright, why can’t you call me? Is something wrong?

 **SANS** **💙:** NOTHING I CAN’T HANDLE, I PROMISE!

Nothing he can’t _handle?_

 **You:** So something IS wrong.

 **SANS** **💙:** NO

 **SANS** **💙:** MAYBE.

 **SANS** **💙:** IT’S NOT IMPORTANT, PLEASE DON’T WORRY!

 **You:** That train has already left the station, I am worrying!

You frown, biting your lip.

 **You:** Can you give me one reason I SHOULDN’T come over to your place right now?

Sans’ typing bubble appears and you quickly add an amendment.

 **You:** One GOOD reason.

The typing bubble disappears.

You give Sans a solid ten minutes to reply, but either he just left his phone in the middle of the conversation, or you’ve stumped him.

 **You:** Right. I’m coming over then. I’ll see you soon.

And then, because even though you’re a little upset, it needs to be said:

 **You:** I love you.

Now…

[YOU'RE GOING OVER THERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630204)


	29. US!Sans

You take a screenshot of the text Sans just sent you and switch over to a different contact.

 **You:** [IMG-8]

 **You:** Do I buy this or should I be worried?

The response comes within a minute.

 **papyrus:** wow, no wonder he never lies, he sucks at it lmco…

Your brows instantly furrow in concern.

 **You:** So I should be worried?

 **papyrus:** i wouldn’t go that far.

The matter-of-fact statement makes you frown even harder.

 **You:** You know what’s going on.

 **papyrus:** hard not to, i live with the guy, you know.

 **You:** Can you tell ME? Because I’m kinda in the dark over here!

 **papyrus:** i could.

 **papyrus:** or you could just come over, see for yourself.

 **papyrus:** funnier for me that way. :)

You groan, annoyed, switching back over to Sans.

Curtly, you lay everything out.

 **You:** Sans, Papyrus says you’re lying to me and that I should come over to your place right now. Can you give me one reason that I shouldn’t?

Sans’ typing bubble appears and you quickly add an amendment.

 **You:** One GOOD reason.

The typing bubble disappears.

You give Sans a solid ten minutes to reply, but either he just left his phone in the middle of the conversation, or you’ve stumped him.

 **You:** Right. I’m coming over then. I’ll see you soon.

And then, because even though you’re a little upset, it needs to be said:

 **You:** I love you.

Now…

[YOU'RE GOING OVER THERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630204)


	30. US!Sans

You storm your way over to his place, ready to demand an explanation—and for his sake, it had better be a good one!

Sans at least has the decency to answer the door when you arrive, his skull awash in blue.

Ashamed of his behavior? You certainly hope so!

…But as you are, nonetheless, very glad to see him, you still throw your arms around his shoulders for a good, firm hug.

Sans returns it after a moment, but…almost as if on a delay, _far_ slower than his usual reaction speed.

And there’s something else, too.

“Stars, Sans,” you breathe, “you’re _hot._ ”

His body against yours feels positively _scorching_ ¸ bones radiating heat far more than you’ve ever noticed.

Your observation, however, just makes Sans chuckle.

“HEHEH…JUST MY…BURDEN TO BEAR,” he croaks.

_Croaks_.

You reel back from him at the broken, raspy quality of his voice.

“You sound _awful_ ,” you say, giving him a proper once-over for the first time.

His skull is still aglow, flushed with magic: much brighter than his usually vibrant eye-lights, now dim and a little wobbly-looking in his sockets.

There’s dark shadows under those sockets too, making your energetic skeleton beau look _exhausted_ —literally _bone_ -tired—which would make sense considering he’s not even properly _dressed_ , just wearing a novelty t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, like he’d just been rolled right out of bed.

“You _look_ awful,” you amend, and Sans grimaces.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO ‘HOT’? I LIKED THAT ONE…”

“You’re definitely still hot. Do you have a _fever?_ ” The obvious realization strikes you. “Are you _sick???_ ”

“I…”

Sans sighs, defeated.

“MAYBE,” he admits. “JUST…JUST A LITTLE…BUT! IT’S FINE, I’M FINE, I CAN—”

“No the hell you can’t!”

You _see_ him, standing on the porch in his pajamas, looking _terrible_ and already starting to _sway on his feet…!_

You grab Sans by the shoulders and spin him around, marching him right back inside.

“How long have you been sick?” you demand, all but shoving him down on the living room couch. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me? Why didn’t you just _say so_ ¸ you big dummy?!”

Sans blinks dazed eye-lights at you as you continue trying to make him comfortable, dragging an afghan over him and arranging some throw pillows beneath his skull.

“UH…IN ORDER……ONLY A FEW DAYS, REALLY… NO, BUT KIND OF…AND BECAUSE I…DIDN’T WANT YOU TO WORRY…?”

“You’re stupid.”

“…APPARENTLY,” Sans ruefully laments.

“How does a skeleton even _get_ sick? Aren’t you magic?!”

“answered your own question.”

You turn, seeing your boyfriend’s brother leaning up against the kitchen door-frame.

“we’re magic,” Papyrus succinctly explains to you, “so when our magic’s out of whack, we go a little haywire…and _some_ body’s been burning the candle at both ends lately, picking up way too many shifts trying to buy his datemate a nice holiday gift.”

You turn back to Sans, whose skull has impossibly brightened even more.

“ _PAPYRUS_ …” he hisses, a warning that Papyrus obviously knows to be toothless by the way he completely refuses to heed it.

“good job getting him to lay down,” Papyrus says to you. “rest is the only thing that’s gonna fix this, and i’ve been failing at it all day. you know what he’s like.”

“I do,” you sigh.

“STOP TALKING ABOUT ME LIKE I’M NOT HERE!” Sans interjects. “I’M FINE, IT’S NOT EVEN THAT BAD!”

“I think you’d say that on your deathbed,” you tell him. “I’ll get you a tombstone, engraved with that: ‘Comic Sans Serif, said it wasn’t even that bad.’”

Sans would normally have a very snappy comeback to that on the tip of his metaphorical tongue.

It’s a real testament to how cruddy he must be feeling that all he can do is splutter in vague offense.

“nyeheheheheh, they got you there, bro. take a nap or something, i’m gonna make some soup.”

“OH NO, YOU DON’T, NOT UNSUPERVISED!” Sans starts sitting up, trying to wriggle himself out of your skillful blanket-tucking. “YOU _NEVER_ PUT ANYTHING BACK THE RIGHT WAY! I’LL—”

“Nope,” you say decisively, shoving him back down.

“BUT—”

“You’re _sick_ , Sans! And if I heard that right, because of _me!_ ”

Sans’ sockets go wide and dismayed. “NO, NOT _BECAUSE_ OF—”

“That makes it my love-sworn duty to help you get better!”

“I—”

You give him your best stern look.

“I am _fully_ prepared to sit on you if necessary.”

To this, Sans has no retort.

“better listen to your human,” Papyrus opines from the peanut gallery. “don’t think you could bench ‘em like this.”

As he disappears into the kitchen, no doubt to make an unfortunate mess and a decent meal, Sans makes a point to grumble, “I _COULD_ STILL BENCH YOU…I’M JUST…CHOOSING NOT TO…OUT OF RESPECT FOR YOUR WISHES.”

…Oh damn it.

He’s just too sweet.

You can’t stay mad at this skeleton, no matter _how_ dumb he can be.

You take a proper seat on the couch, getting situated and resting Sans’ skull in your lap.

“Hey,” you say to him at length, “it’s really sweet of you to want to do something nice for me…but I don’t want you running yourself ragged over it.”

Sans huffs.

“I KNOW…AND I’M SORRY I DIDN’T JUST TELL YOU THE TRUTH AT THE BEGINNING. I’M USUALLY _BETTER_ AT…ER…NOT…GETTING SICK? BUT I GUESS I OVEREXTENDED A LITTLE, AND THEN I WAS HOPING IT’D BLOW OVER QUICK, AND THEN…I DON’T KNOW.”

“The holidays are rough on everybody,” you concede. “I guess it _is_ prime ‘make yourself sick’ season, even for non-magic folks.”

“…I _AM_ OKAY, THOUGH,” he insists. “IF YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT THAT. THIS _ISN’T_ ME ON MY DEATHBED. ……THOUGH IF I WERE TO BE BURIED ANYWHERE, _HERE_ SEEMS LIKE AN IDEAL LOCATION.”

You can’t restrain the burst of laughter that escapes you as Sans turns his skull, affectionately nuzzling your thighs.

“Hey, save that stuff for when you’re _not_ sick, you goober!”

“OH, YOU’RE RIGHT, I’M _VERY_ SICK— _LOVE_ SICK, FOR YOU.”

“Pfft, hahaha, shut _up!_ ”

Well.

Now you’ve got a feverish, rest-resistant skeleton in your lap that you’ve got to convince to sleep instead of trying to flirt with you.

You’ve definitely got your work cut out for you here.

[HAPPY HOLIDAYS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628539)


	31. Call Papyrus

Ah, there, P for Papyrus!

You tap his name and hold the phone to your ear.

In just a moment, you’ll…

[HEAR HIM ANSWER](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630303)

[GET TO LEAVE A MESSAGE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630780)

[SEE IF YOUR CALL GOES THROUGH](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630930)


	32. UT!Papyrus

You don’t think Papyrus has ever _not_ answered a call, even if it was only to say he couldn’t talk right then.

It’s no surprise at all to quickly hear his voice booming through your speakers with a delighted exclamation of your name.

_“GOOD MORNING, MY DEAREST DATEMATE! MY DARLING, MY LOVE, THE INKY BLACK VOID OF MY EYE-SOCKET!”_

The bizarre simile makes you laugh.

“What???”

Papyrus huffs, like you’re being purposefully obtuse.

Nonetheless, he happily explains, _“WELL, I HARDLY HAVE **EYES** FOR YOU TO BE THE APPLE OF, NOW DO I?”_

“Oh…I guess that makes sense!”

 _“I USUALLY DO,”_ Papyrus agrees. _“EXCEPT FOR THE TIMES WHEN I DON’T! NOW, TO WHAT DO I OWE THE HONOR OF THIS CALL?”_

“Oh nothing,” you demure, “I just missed you a little…”

_“WHAT A COINCIDENCE! I WAS JUST MISSING YOU A LITTLE, TOO! THANK **GOODNESS** YOU CALLED, OR I MIGHT HAVE BEEN MISSING YOU A **LOT**!”_

“Hahaha!” You adore this skeleton. “We could make it even better, probably?”

Papyrus hums. _“AN INTERESTING PROPOSITION! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”_

“I was thinking…maybe I could come over!”

On the other end of the line, though, there’s an uncharacteristic pause.

 _“R…RIGHT NOW?………UM! AS GREAT AN IDEA AS THAT IS,”_ Papyrus says, _“I! FEEL VERY STRONGLY AND FOR NO PARTICULAR REASON THAT…YOU SHOULD DEFINITELY **NOT** COME OVER!”_

The disappointment surprises you, with how quickly it sets in.

Papyrus…doesn’t want to see you?

No, that can’t be right…

[ASK WHY NOT](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630339)

[OFFER TO COME LATER](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630366)


	33. UT!Papyrus

“Why can’t I come over?” you ask, making no effort to disguise the plaintive note in your voice.

Papyrus recognizes it almost immediately.

_“OH! NO, DON’T BE UPSET, MY SWEET SNICKERDOODLE! OF COURSE I WANT TO SEE YOU! I’M JUST…BUSY, RIGHT NOW!”_

Busy?

“But…you don’t work until late today, I thought?”

_“YES, THAT’S TRUE! I’M IN THE MIDDLE OF…ERM…WELL! THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT! BUT…IF YOU REALLY WANTED TO SEE ME—I UNDERSTAND, I **AM** IRRESISTIBLE—I…MAYBE…”_

You hear some faint rustling in the background.

 _“HMM, IF I…YES, I THINK THAT CAN WORK!”_ he exclaims triumphantly. _“I’LL JUST PRIORITIZE AND WORK FASTER! CAN YOU STILL COME IN HALF AN HOUR?”_

Oh! That was barely any time at all.

“Sure, I can still see you then!”

You say your ‘love you’s and ‘goodbye’s and hang up the phone, even as your curiosity starts to eat at you. You wonder what you’ll find when you…

[MEET PAPYRUS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630393)


	34. UT!Papyrus

“Is it…a bad time?” you tentatively ask. “Because, if you’re busy right now, I could…come a little later?”

 _“YES!”_ Papyrus blurts, the moment you suggest it. _“THAT’S **PERFECT**! THAT SHOULD GIVE ME ENOUGH TIME TO WR—ER, UH! I MEAN! THAT’S! NOT IMPORTANT! UH, HOW DOES…HALF AN HOUR SOUND?”_

Like barely any time at all, honestly.

“Yeah, sure, I can come over then!”

You say your ‘love you’s and ‘goodbye’s and hang up the phone, even as your curiosity starts to eat at you. You wonder what you’ll find when you…

[MEET PAPYRUS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630393)


	35. UT!Papyrus

Papyrus answers the door pretty much immediately when you arrive, scooping you off the ground into a big ol’ bear-hug and nuzzling your chest.

You pretty much feel like an idiot now for thinking he wouldn’t be _thrilled_ to see you!

When he sets you down and brings you inside, you pretty quickly realize what the fuss must have been about.

There’s a whole pile of brand new stuff in the middle of the floor, beside a few neatly organized rolls of tape, decorative paper and scissors—and just off to the side, _one_ box already wrapped and adorned with a bow.

“Papyrus,” you say, clucking your tongue, “if you were wrapping my present, you could’ve just said!”

Papyrus’ eye-sockets go wide.

“WHAT! WHY WOULD YOU ASSUME THAT? THAT’S! RIDICULOUS!” he says, sweat beading on his skull. “THESE ARE JUST…GYFTMAS THINGS! FOR…OTHER PEOPLE! WHO ARE NOT YOU!”

Yeah, you’re willing to believe that much…

“But _that_ one,” you say, pointing to the only wrapped present, “is mine.”

Otherwise, Papyrus would’ve never let you in—not and risk spoiling the surprise!

“………”

Still, he stares at you in shifty silence for a moment, as if not saying anything was somehow _less_ incriminating.

But eventually, he breaks.

“OH DRAT!” he cries, clenching his gloved fist. “I CAN’T PULL A FAST ONE ON YOU! YOU’RE JUST TOO CLEVER! YES, THAT ONE’S FOR YOU, _CURSE_ YOUR SKILLS OF DEDUCTION…”

“Aww, don’t worry, Papyrus,” you say reassuringly. “I don’t know what’s _in_ the box, so it’s still a surprise!”

“IT IS?” He seems to consider this, and then brightens. “…YES, YOU’RE RIGHT, IT IS! I’M _NOT_ A FAILURE AS A DATEMATE!”

You smile. “You could _never_ be that.”

Papyrus puffs out his chest a little, obviously pleased and trying to act like he knew all along that you would say that…

But the subtle streak of cobalt blue along his cheekbones is enough to tell you that you’re still doing your sworn duty as his datemate.

Since you’re already over, and not wanting to distract him from being productive, you offer to help Papyrus with his holiday wrapping.

“OH, HOW THOUGHTFUL OF YOU! ARE YOU GOOD AT WRAPPING PRESENTS?”

You consider the question.

“I am…an extra pair of hands,” you say conservatively.

“NYEH-HEH-HEH, WELL, LUCKY FOR YOU, I AM A _SUPERB_ PRESENT-WRAPPER—AN EXTRA PAIR OF HANDS IS ALL I NEED!”

As you sit down with him and all his gifts and supplies, you quickly discover that Papyrus isn’t talking out of his coccyx: his cuts are straight and even, his tape application flawless on the first try, and his handling of oddly-shaped object almost reality defying.

“IT’S LIKE A PUZZLE,” he attempts to explain to you. “YOU JUST HAVE TO VISUALIZE HOW THE PAPER NEEDS TO GO AROUND IT AND IT’S EASY!”

He says this, of course, as he _somehow_ finagles the paper in such a way as to accommodate a lava lamp—without it being immediately obvious that it _is_ a lava lamp.

“I’ll…take your word for it!”

You think Sans will probably appreciate the lamp, just like Toriel will appreciate the funny apron, and Frisk will like their new computer game, and Undyne will probably cause some serious collateral damage with her katana-shaped letter-opener.

Even the girls at Papyrus’ work are well provided for with fashionable, yet cozy-looking scarves, plus gift-cards for a few clients of that personal trainer side-venture he’s trying to get going!

“You’re a very thoughtful gifter, Papyrus,” you tell him. “Kinda can’t wait to see what you got me now…”

“YOU _CAN_ WAIT,” Papyrus replies, “AND YOU WILL! THE GYFTMAS SURPRISE SHALL NOT BE SPOILED ANY WORSE THAN YOU’VE ALREADY SPOILED IT, OR MY NAME ISN’T PAPYRUS! AND IT IS!”

You laugh.

“Fair enough! I guess I just have to hope that what I got you is just as good.”

“IT WILL BE.”

“Oh? How do you know that?” you wonder. “Did _you_ spoil _my_ Gyftmas surprise?”

“OF COURSE NOT!” Papyrus tsks. “BUT ANYTHING YOU GIVE ME IS BOUND TO BE AMAZING—BECAUSE IT COMES WITH A BUILT-IN PART TWO!”

“Part two?”

Papyrus grabs a shiny, pre-tied bow out of his pile of wrapping supplies, deftly settling it atop your head.

“IT’S YOU!” he tells you with a broad, sincere smile. “ANY GIFT IS AUTOMATICALLY DOUBLY COOL BECAUSE YOU’RE A GIFT, TOO—SO THAT’S TWO GIFTS IN ONE, RIGHT THERE!”

For a moment, you don’t even know what to say.

And then, you’re plucking the bow off of your head, peeling off the adhesive backing and slapping it right on top of Papyrus’ skull.

“ _You’re_ a gift,” you say firmly, brooking no argument.

“NYEH-HEH-HEH, YES, I KNOW!”

[HAPPY HOLIDAYS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628539)


	36. HT!Papyrus

Papyrus is too much of a professional to keep his phone on him at work, where an ill-timed notification could distract him from a patient in need of care.

He always has it turned off in his locker, only going back to check it on breaks, so you know your call is going straight to voicemail and he’ll get back to you when he can.

Through the receiver, his pre-recorded voice soon meets your ear:

_“Hello! You’ve Reached The Phone Of Papyrus, So If You Meant To Call Someone Else, You’re Out Of Luck! If You Did Mean To Call Me, I’m Flattered—But Elsewhere At The Moment, So If It’s Urgent, Please Leave A Message And I’ll Call You Back As Soon As I’m Free!”_

There’s a long beep.

“Hi sweetheart!” you chirp into the phone. “I hope you’re having a good day so far. I was just calling to see if you had some time to hang out later, maybe after your shift? Let me know, but no worries if you can’t. Love you, bye!”

You hang up and go about your day, knowing you’ve got awhile before Papyrus will be able to call you back.

When your phone rings again, a few hours later, you don’t even look at the caller ID before you pick up.

 _“Hello, Sunshine!”_ Papyrus happily greets you. _“How Are You On This Lovely Day?”_

“I’m good!” you assure him. “Even better now that I’m talking to _you_.”

He sputters, just a bit, before gathering himself, and it makes you smile.

 _“Now, Now, Don’t Start Trying To Flatter Me,”_ he warns. _“Because Then I’ll Have To Flatter **You** And We’ll Be Stuck On The Phone For The Rest Of Our Natural Lives, And I Only Have A Five Minute Break Right Now!”_

“Oh, well, I guess we better be quick then!”

_“Yes! I Appreciate Your Urgency—I Appreciate A Lot Of Things About You, Actually, But You Know That Already, Don’t Get Me Started—I Would **Love** To See You Later! I Did Have Plans, But I’m Sure They Would Be Even Better With You, So As Long As You’re Up For A Bit Of Experimentation, I Can See You Tonight?”_

…‘Experimentation?’

[SOUNDS SCARY](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630816)

[SOUNDS FUN](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630846)


	37. HT!Papyrus

“I…don’t know if I like the sound of _that,_ ” you admit. “What kind of experimentation are we talking about here?”

_“Nyeh-Heh-Heh, It’s Nothing **Weird** , No Need To Sound So Apprehensive! I Just Found A Recipe I Wanted To Try Out, But I’ve Never Done It Before, So I Have No Idea What Will Happen. It Could Be Amazing Or A Total Disaster, But I’ll Never Know If I Don’t Try, Right?”_

Oh, just a new recipe? _That’s_ an amount of mystery you can handle.

Damn Papyrus, making things sound weird and slightly ominous on you…!

But… you suppose it’s really all just a part of his charm—the same charm that drew you to this massive, bespectacled skeleton in the first place.

“Yeah…yeah, okay,” you relent, “I’m up for giving it a shot if you are!”

You hammer out the rest of the details quickly—what time you’ll be there, if you need a ride, et cetera—and then Papyrus has to go back to work, but you’re very excited to see…

[WHAT AWAITS YOU AT PAPYRUS' HOUSE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630876)


	38. HT!Papyrus

“Yeah, I’m down for anything,” you chuckle, intrigued by Papyrus’ mysterious proposition. “My place or yours?”

 _“Mine,”_ he says decisively. _“I Have All The Supplies Ready And If We Make A Mess, I’d Rather It Be **My** Problem Than Yours!”_

Oh, curiouser and _curiouser!_

You hammer out the rest of the details quickly—what time you’ll be there, if you need a ride, et cetera—and then Papyrus has to go back to work, but you’re very excited to see…

[WHAT AWAITS YOU AT PAPYRUS' HOUSE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630876)


	39. HT!Papyrus

You arrive at your boyfriend’s place, greeted with the usual enthusiasm, and follow him into the kitchen, ready for the mystery of the ‘experiment’ to be solved.

There’s a gigantic stockpot on the stove, apples and oranges spilled out over the counter, and a variety of measuring spoons and cups laid out in ascending order of size.

“Now, Sunshine, I Have A Very Important Job For _You_ ,” Papyrus murmurs, tapping at his phone.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“You,” he declares, catching your hand in his, “Shall Be The Keeper Of The Recipe!”

So saying, he settles his phone right into your palm, as if entrusting you with a most valuable treasure.

You take a look, scrolling back up through the list of steps and ingredients, finally laying eyes on the title.

“Oh, we’re doing a cider?”

“I Know, I Know,” Papyrus says, tying on a (not _currently_ accurate) apron proclaiming himself ‘DUDE WITH THE FOOD.’ “Cider Is More Of A _Fall_ Thing, Technically…But I Was _Busy_ When It Was Fall, And A Warm Drink Is Always In Season When It’s Cold Out!”

You couldn’t agree more, and you give the recipe steps another quick skim.

“Well, it says here this is gonna take a couple hours, so we should get started if we want to try this before it’s out of season again.”

“Ha! An Excellent Quip _And_ A Stirring Challenge, I’m Happy To Oblige!”

You read out all the steps and measurements, keeping everything straight and in order while Papyrus works as your hands—and what a deft and efficient pair of hands he is.

His every movement in the kitchen is swift and precise, a genuine pleasure to watch those long, nimble phalanges of his work even when all he’s doing is peeling apples (in one single, unbroken spiral) and quartering them (in perfect proportion, two chops _exactly_ ).

His proficiency with a knife didn’t come to him under _pleasant_ circumstances, you know—it comes from the same place that makes him eat the apple-skin as he pares instead of throwing it away; the same place that now keeps him from bringing any raw meat into his kitchen or even passing _by_ it in the grocery store—but your Papyrus is a talented skeleton nonetheless and you admire that in him _so_ much.

The apples and oranges and spices and sugar all go in the big pot on the stove and start to simmer, and then Papyrus turns to you.

“Alright, Two Hours—Then What?”

“Uhh, let’s see…” You check the recipe. “Two hours, and then we’re supposed to start mashing stuff. It says to use a wooden spoon, or a potato masher.”

“Hmm…” Papyrus thoughtfully taps his fingers against his teeth, eye-sockets squinted behind his glasses. “I Don’t Think We Have A Wooden Spoon, But There Should Be A Potato Masher Around Here _Somewhere…_ ”

Papyrus begins the hunt around the kitchen, searching for the elusive masher.

You’d offer to help look, but it’s his place and he’d doubtlessly know the layout better than you…

…and as a secondary problem, you’re a little too busy trying to hold back your giggles.

You’re not very successful, if the confused look Papyrus turns on you is any indication.

“What?” he asks, blinking owlish sockets at you. “What’s So Funny? Is It Out In Plain Sight And I’m Having Masher Blindness?”

“No, no, that’s not—nothing’s funny!”

“The Fact That You’re Laughing Seems To Indicate Otherwise!”

“It’s…no, it’s just…”

You cover your mouth, hoping to physically stifle your laughter at the sight of Papyrus in front of you… _kneeling_ _down_ just to get low enough to rifle through the middle drawer.

“You’re…you’re so _tall_ ,” you blurt out, snickering helplessly. “It’s like…hahaha, it’s like you’re a grown man playing with one of those tiny kitchen playsets they have, f…for toddlers! It just looks a little silly, I’m sorry!”

Papyrus snorts.

“Oh, Are You Sorry?” he asks. “Because _You’re_ So _Small_ —Maybe I Think _You_ Look A Little Silly!”

You squeak as Papyrus abruptly seizes you by the hips, pressing his skull against your midsection with an exaggerated little ‘Mwah!’

The way he effortlessly swoops you up into his arms right after, standing to his full and very impressive height, does absolutely _nothing_ to deter you from laughing, even as you wrap your arms around his neck for balance.

You do put up a token protest as he carries you out of the kitchen, or at least make the effort to.

“Wait, ha-hang on, what about the masher?”

“We Have Two Hours Before We Need It,” Papyrus says, matter-of-factly. “I Think That’s Plenty Of Time…”

Well…you tried?

It was hardly _your_ fault that the skeleton you’re dating was so very, _very_ persuasive.

[HAPPY HOLIDAYS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628539)


	40. UF!Papyrus

You’ve probably got a fifty-fifty chance of your partner picking up or getting shunted right to voicemail.

You know Papyrus is in slated to be in court today, arguing a case the details of which you’re not privy to, at a time you’re not sure of—so either he’ll find a moment to duck away and quickly take your call, or his phone will be off altogether.

At the very least, it seems to be ringing, so you think the odds are in your favor.

Somehow, you’re still not prepared when Papyrus’ voice sounds in your ear, a low raspy murmur that sends a shiver up your spine.

_“HELLO, MY LOVE…”_

“H…hi! You’re…not busy,” you say, perhaps a bit obviously, but that can’t be held against you.

You weren’t _ready_ for _that._

 _“NYEH-HEH-HEH, NOT JUST YET,”_ Papyrus says, still speaking quietly (for him, anyway). There must be other people nearby, wherever he is. _“THAT’S GOING TO CHANGE VERY QUICKLY, SO I’M AFRAID I CAN’T STAY WITH YOU VERY LONG. DO YOU NEED ME?”_

“Always,” you reply without hesitation.

…Mostly to make Papyrus choke a little on nothing, and to imagine the cute shade of red his cheekbones must be going by now, but that’s not to say you _don’t_ mean it.

 _“BE! SERIOUS!”_ he hisses. You smile when after a moment, he very purposefully adds, _“PLEASE,”_ like it was literally wrung out of him.

Unfairly charming to unintentionally _hilarious_ in a minute or less—that’s your man, alright!

“Sorry, sorry,” you relent, hoping he can’t hear your huge grin. “I know you’re busy, I won’t keep you too long, I was just…thinking maybe, if you have some time later, we could…see each other?”

_“………”_

The pause is…unexpected.

The laughter, even _moreso_.

It turns your smile into a frown, surprisingly fast.

“Hey, wait a minute, don’t laugh at me! What’s funny about wanting to spend time with you?”

 _“NYEH-HEH-HEH, NO, DARLING, NO, NOTHING AT ALL!”_ Papyrus practically cackles, considerably weakening his credibility. _“THAT’S NOT IT, I **ASSURE** YOU!”_

“Then _what?_ ”

“I’M **AMAZING** , THAT’S WHAT—NO SURPRISE, I’M SURE, BUT IT REMAINS THE TRUTH EVEN SO.”

“Wh—”

 _“I ALREADY **HAVE** AN OUTING PLANNED FOR US TONIGHT,”_ Papyrus finally explains, smug satisfaction practically oozing from his tone. _“I’D INTENDED FOR IT TO BE **SPONTANEOUS** , BUT…CLEARLY, I’M SUCH AN EXCELLENT DATEMATE THAT I WAS JUST PREDICTING YOUR NEED TO SEE ME AGAIN AND ACTING ACCORDINGLY.”_

“I…wait…really?”

_“YES, REALLY! YOU CAN THANK ME LATER.”_

“Wait, wait, hang on,” you attempt to cut in, “what do you mean by ‘outing’? What—”

_“SORRY, LOVE, YOU REALLY **WILL** HAVE TO THANK ME LATER, THEY’RE CALLING US IN. BUT I’LL SEE YOU TONIGHT—DRESS WARMLY!”_

And then, as quickly as that, ‘click!’

Papyrus hangs up on you.

Leaving you _totally_ in the dark about whatever plans he’s made for the two of you for later.

[WAIT AND SEE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630948)

[INVESTIGATE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630984)


	41. UF!Papyrus

With a huff, you put your phone away and start to rustle through your wardrobe, looking for warm clothes.

If you don’t know _what_ you’re walking into, you may as well walk into it prepared whenever…

[PAPYRUS COMES TO PICK YOU UP](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52631017)


	42. UF!Papyrus

An idea strikes you after a moment, a long-shot but not an impossibility.

You’re too curious not to try.

You pull up your texts and start typing.

**You:** Hey, where’s Papyrus taking me tonight?

**sans:** hahahahahahaha

**sans:** what do you take me for, some kinda snitch

**sans:** nice try tho

Ah damn it.

You send a few choice cursewords at your boyfriend’s brother, but you guess you don’t really have a choice.

You’ll have to…

[WAIT AND SEE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52630948)


	43. UF!Papyrus

Papyrus arrives at your door with a sharp knock and a roguishly winning smile, dressed in a long black peacoat with his favorite tattered scarf tucked into it.

“RAVISHING AS EVER,” he purrs at the sight of you.

You’re not sure if he’s just trying to flatter you or if he _actually_ thinks you look ‘ravishing’ in your shapeless layers of winter clothing.

Both options seem equally charming, honestly.

You do laugh a little when he takes your gloved hand in his own, dipping in a near-knightly bow to press his teeth to it—a lingering skeleton kiss—and again when he holds out his arm for you to take in Proper Gentlemanly Fashion.

You do, of course, take it: you’d _never_ spurn Papyrus’ affection, hard-won and now so freely given.

“We’re walking?” you wonder as the two of you begin to stroll down the sidewalk, to destinations unknown.

“MM.”

“Do I…get to know where?”

“YOU CAN GUESS,” he magnanimously offers.

“Ohhh, it’s like _that_ , is it?”

Papyrus smirks.

If he weren’t so handsome, you’d probably want to smack that smug look off his face.

You still kinda do.

“Alright, alright…” You make an attempt to brainstorm, reaching for clues to put together. “You said dress warm…so we’re probably staying outside.”

“THAT WOULD MAKE SENSE.”

Neither a confirmation, nor a denial.

_Damn_ him…

“You… _didn’t_ say anything about shoes, so there’s probably not a _lot_ of walking involved?”

“OR,” Papyrus poses, “I’M WILLING TO CARRY YOU FOR IT.”

“……So there _is_ a lot of walking?”

“DID I SAY THAT?”

“………”

Papyrus, with his sharp-toothed grin and his ruby-red eye-lights is _fantastic_ …ly horrible at feigning innocence.

“You’re messing with me,” you accuse, and he laughs.

“MAYBE A LITTLE. YOU’RE ADORABLE—KEEP MAKING GUESSES.”

Feeling patronized, you sigh deeply…but duly make another attempt.

You glance around the street the two of you walk, looking for more clues.

The area is unfamiliar to you, but doesn’t look residential, more of a city square than private homes.

The sun has set and snow has started falling, but Papyrus doesn’t seem overly concerned about either…so whatever he’s planned must be unaffected by these factors.

Which leaves…

………

“I got nothing,” you say, reluctantly admitting defeat.

“NYEH-HEH-HEH, THAT’S FINE,” Papyrus allows. “I JUST NEEDED TO KEEP YOU BUSY UNTIL WE GOT HERE.”

You realize, with a start, that the two of you have stopped walking, now standing in front of…

A carriage.

A _beautiful_ , black-lacquered carriage harnessed to two _equally_ beautiful piebald horses, decked out in all the bells and whistles of winter finery.

And Papyrus is confirming a reservation with the man holding the reins.

“I…oh stars, are you serious?” is all you can think to say when he turns back to you.

“I WOULD _NEVER_ JOKE ABOUT A ROMANTIC EVENING WITH MY DATEMATE,” he assures you, holding out a hand to help you up into the carriage.

You take it.

Papyrus joins you as soon as you’re seated, his arm curling around you to hold you close, and with a gentle flick of the reins, the horses get to moving.

After the ride, you’ll get to pet and feed the horses (Ranger and Dakota) a healthy snack. You’ll get to walk home with your boyfriend, and you’ll get to invite him inside for an even longer evening.

But for now you sit, nestled up against Papyrus’ warmth, enjoying the view of your town as little flakes of snow fall all around you.

[HAPPY HOLIDAYS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628539)


	44. SF!Sans

Sans should be between jobs right about now, so you feel reasonably certain he’ll have time to take at least a quick call.

You only have to wait two rings before his voice comes over the line.

 _“GOOD MORNING, MY DEAR,”_ he says, and that’s all it takes to put a smile on your face.

“Hi Sans… How’s your day going?”

_“EFFICIENTLY. WHICH IS TO SAY, VERY WELL! THOUGH AS ALWAYS, HEARING YOUR VOICE IS A MARKED IMPROVEMENT ON EVEN THE **BEST** DAY, SO THANK YOU FOR THINKING OF ME.”_

Ooh, _damn_ him, that was smooth—miles away, and he can _still_ make your face heat up with just a few well-calculated words—and by the smug tone of his voice, he already knows it.

“Someone has to,” you shoot back. “Who _knows_ what you’d get up to otherwise…”

You hear Sans cluck a tongue he doesn’t have.

_“ **GOODNESS** , ARE YOU IMPLYING THAT I’M SOME KIND OF **TROUBLEMAKER**?”_

“Oh, we’re _well_ past implying.”

_“HEHEHEHEHEH…!”_

Well…at least he’s willing to own it—you can respect that.

 _“WELL,”_ Sans says, _“AS LOVELY AS IT IS TO HEAR YOU, I DO HAVE TO GET BACK TO WORK SHORTLY. ARE WE STILL ON FOR OUR DATE TONIGHT?”_

Of course, your mystery date: the one Sans has been talking up for _weeks_ , promising you he’d taken care of everything, that it would be spectacular, amazing, _perfect…!_

But…

You have your misgivings.

It’s the holidays and everything has been so busy and stressful. There’s so much going on, so many obligations, all this on _top_ of the weather, and…

Quite frankly, you’re _tired_.

You don’t…really know that you’re up for a date, especially not the kinds of things you can imagine Sans arranging for you—dinner, dancing, a fancy party, some sort of _activity_ …

So, right now, you have a choice to make…

[BE HONEST](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52631068)

[SUCK IT UP](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52631080)


	45. SF!Sans

You don’t really want to lie to Sans, not even to spare his feelings.

“Actually,” you admit, “I don’t…really know if I’m up for a whole… _date-_ date, y’know?”

_“…NO?”_

You hasten to clarify that, “It’s not that I don’t want to see you! A-and I’m sure it’s…whatever you’ve got planned is probably lovely, and…and it’s _so_ sweet of you to do it all, but I just… I dunno, I’m a little…tired? Going out seems like it’d be…a lot… I’m sorry—”

 _“NO, NO, DEAR, DON’T APOLOGIZE,”_ Sans cuts in. _“I UNDERSTAND. TRULY, I DO. BUT…”_

“But…?”

_“WILL YOU TRUST ME?”_

Asked so softly, so earnestly…

You’re not sure you _can_ answer otherwise.

“Of course.”

_“THEN I’LL SEE YOU TONIGHT AT EIGHT. HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY, DEAR.”_

And without further ado, ignoring your sputtering protests, Sans hangs up the phone.

What…just happened?

Did you get out of the date? Was it still happening anyway?

You’re not sure.

You guess you’ll just…find out…

[WHEN SANS COMES TO GET YOU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52631131)


	46. SF!Sans

From everything he’s said, it sounds like Sans had put a lot of effort into setting up this date-night for you.

The _last_ thing you want is to disappoint him, or make him feel unappreciated…

So, you tell a little white lie.

“Of course,” you tell him, a bright smile in your voice. “I can’t wait! You’re picking me up at eight, right?”

 _“ON THE DOT,”_ Sans assures you. _“HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY UNTIL THEN, MY DEAR!”_

And you say goodbye and end the call.

It’s for Sans, the skeleton you _love_ —you’ll manage to power through a little tiredness _somehow_ and…probably still have a very nice time!

You’ll be alright…

[WHEN SANS COMES TO GET YOU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52631131)


	47. SF!Sans

You’re dressed and ready to go when Sans arrives, out of nowhere in his usual fashion.

“YOU LOOK WONDERFUL,” he says when he sees you, and you do your best to give him an easy smile at the compliment.

“So do you,” you reply, returning it.

Sans _does_ always look good in black, the sleek shade accentuating the pop of his gloves, his scarf, his eye-lights…

Those electric purple lights seem to brighten before your eyes as he holds his hand out to you and you take it.

You’ve talked yourself up, in between now and the call this morning; convinced yourself you can handle _anything_ if it’s just one evening (no matter _how_ physically and emotionally exhausted you are)!

Sans pulls you close and you can almost sense his magic, gearing up to shortcut you to parts unknown.

You blink and the view of your living room is gone…

…replaced by the view of…

_Sans’_ living room?

It comes out before you can stop yourself, just one wordless sound.

“…Uh???”

Sans doesn’t seem to heed it, taking your coat and other winter accoutrements and hanging them up, like a proper gentleman; shortly doing the same with his own.

He keeps his gloves on (he always does), but beneath his coat and scarf, he’s dressed startlingly casually—just a nice pair of slacks, boots with barely any heel, and a soft, worn-looking henley in charcoal gray.

It’s obviously a date outfit…but not something _your_ Sans would wear if he were going somewhere very important; somewhere he needed to look perfectly classy and elegant.

You…

You officially have no idea what is going on.

Sans just grins, having a chuckle at your confusion, but you’re so lost that you can’t even really get mad at him for it.

You just…follow along when he takes you by the hand and starts walking with you.

“We’re…at your house,” you say, stating the obvious.

“MMHM,” Sans agrees, still grinning.

“Where’s Papyrus? Is he—”

“HE’S OUT FOR THE EVENING,” Sans explains. “ONE OF THE LOCAL MUSEUMS HAS ONE OF THOSE OVERNIGHT PROGRAMS GOING, SO HE WON’T BE BACK UNTIL MORNING.”

“Oh,” is all you can think to say as you’re led into the den.

There’s already a fire going in the fireplace, crackling and warm, and you bypass the couch and all the chairs to sit down on the rug in front of it.

It seems like you blink and then there’s a drink in your hand, a glass of wine appearing in Sans’ claws, too.

“I…Wait,” you say stupidly, “what… Where’s…the date?”

“THIS IS IT,” Sans purrs, curling his free arm around your shoulders. “YOU AND I…IN FRONT OF THE FIRE…SHARING A DRINK AND AN EVENING, WITH NOTHING ELSE TO WORRY ABOUT.”

His skull dips down, his teeth grazing your neck in a very gentle, very _careful_ nuzzle that makes you shiver.

“JUST US, DEAR—NOTHING MORE COMPLICATED THAN THAT.”

Just…

Just the two of you.

Staying in.

Not doing _anything_.

………

It’s _exactly_ what you wanted.

“I…how did you—”

Sans chuckles, low and amused.

“DID YOU REALLY THINK I’D DRAG YOU THROUGH A WHOLE RIGAMAROLE JUST TO PLEASE MY OWN EGO?” he wonders. “IT’S A STRESSFUL TIME OF YEAR, YOU NEED A BREAK. YOU _DESERVE_ A BREAK.”

Your mouth opens and closes for a moment, nearly at a loss for what to say.

“You…you deserve a break, too,” you settle on, and Sans shrugs.

“I SEEM TO BE HAVING ONE RIGHT NOW,” he notes. “I DON’T THINK I COULD’VE CHOSEN BETTER COMPANY FOR IT, EITHER…”

Oh stars, there he goes again—making your face feel burning hot and setting your heart thumping in your chest.

You take a sip of your drink, futilely trying to cover it, and Sans just laughs, squeezing you ever closer to him.

You have a quiet, intimate night in ahead of you.

And you are very much in love.

[HAPPY HOLIDAYS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052230/chapters/52628539)


End file.
